


May 2015 Fills

by cheinsaw



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3912973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheinsaw/pseuds/cheinsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a bunch of touhou prompt fills i did on tumblr/twitter! list can be found here:<br/>http://cheinsaw.tumblr.com/post/106964292163</p><p>prompt and characters will be in chapter title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seiga/Yoshika, stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for seiyoshis on twitter

i.

Seiga runs the soft material between her fingers appreciatively. A fine piece, and worth the wait. “Thank you very, very much,” she says, holding the dress in her arms delicately, as if it’s a child. “If you ever need my assistance, feel free to call on me.”

“I don’t think it will be necessary, but thank you,” Alice says, retreating back into her cottage. A shame. Seiga quite likes the reclusive types, but it’s so hard to get them to like her back. No matter. Seiga’s done what she came here to do. She gives the dress another once-over. It’s black, and cute, and Yoshika-sized, and patterned with small white stars. Seiga specifically commissioned it to resist tearing and stains, two things Yoshika’s extremely good at inflicting upon her clothes without realizing it.

It’s perfect. Now she just has to get Yoshika into it.

ii.

“Yoshika,” she singsongs, weaving through the rows of gravestones. Yoshika has been hanging around the cemetery behind the Myouren Temple for months, despite the fact that it no longer needs guarding. Both Seiga and the Buddhists have tried to coax her away, but to no avail. She just keeps coming back. Old habits die hard, Seiga thinks - after so long spent being told to watch over the graveyard, Yoshika can’t stop, despite orders. She even prefers to sleep in it. So the graveyard is always the first place Seiga checks for her jiangshi, naturally. “Yoshika? Are you around here? Yooooshikaaaa…”

Sure enough, Yoshika’s head pokes up from behind a tombstone. She ambles towards Seiga in a daze, her arms outstretched and her mouth slightly open. She looks utterly confused. “Good girl,” Seiga says. She pets Yoshika’s matted hair and smiles. “I have a present for you.”

“Present?”

“A gift. For you.”

“Ohhhh.” Yoshika blinks slowly. “Can I eat it?”

“No, no, darling, you can’t eat it.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t food. No eating.” Seiga takes both of Yoshika’s stiff hands in her own. “Why don’t we go back home so you can see it?” She’s already prepared an ofuda to fasten onto Yoshika’s forehead:  _walk to Seiga’s home, be nice, don’t eat anything_ , it says.

Yoshika stares blankly as Seiga discards the old talisman and attaches the new one under the brim of her hat. When it’s finished, she immediately begins walking, her purpose now clear. Seiga floats along by her side, content as usual to just watch Yoshika. How very precious, this girl is, even though she’s dead.

iii.

The dress fits perfectly, somehow accentuating Yoshika’s frame rather than just hanging off of her like most clothes do. Seiga really has to hand it to Alice; the girl is a master at sewing. Yoshika, however, looks absolutely bewildered.  
“Well? Do you like it?”

Yoshika seems confused. “Like…?”

“Does it feel more comfortable than your old clothes?”

“It’s soft,” Yoshika says after a moment.

“It should be. And, look, it even has stars on it!”

“Stars… are in the sky?” She sounds worried, like she always does when Seiga challenges her perception of things. Her brain’s too rotten to handle symbolism, and metaphor, and just about anything even slightly complex. But Seiga will try, because she always tries. For Yoshika.

“Yes, like in the sky. Somebody drew them on your dress! Just for you!”

“Oh,” Yoshika says, a smile forming on her face. “I like stars.”

“I know. There’s a good girl.”

iv.

Yoshika doesn’t get to look up at the sky very often, with her stiff joints and unbendable neck. Seiga’s careful with her, laying her body down on the ground, her arms sticking up into the air. Once she’s sure Yoshika is comfortable, she lies down by her jiangshi’s side. “The stars are beautiful tonight, yes?”

Yoshika doesn’t answer, her face frozen in awe at the open sky before her. It makes Seiga’s heart feel warm. Yoshika, when she was alive, loved stargazing and staring out into the sky. Seeing her now, like this, is like seeing her as she used to be.

Yoshika will probably forget this in a few hours, but it makes the experience all the more magical. Maybe, Seiga thinks, the stars on the dress will remind her. If Yoshika remembers, even just a little bit, then Seiga is happy.


	2. Alice/Marisa - multitasking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for rabbiteclair on tumblr

Alice is never sure what to expect when there’s a knock at her door. Sometimes it’s a lost human, looking for shelter. Sometimes it’s one of her acquaintances, looking to invite her to something or offer a proposal of some kind. Sometimes it’s one of the forest’s resident fairies, trying to play a prank on her.

Usually, like now, it’s Marisa.

“Heh, uh, figured you could help me with this,” Marisa says, a grin spread across her dirt-smeared face. The front of her dress is torn straight down the middle, with several other gashes in the sleeves and skirt. There are a few twigs, some with leaves attached, tangled in her thick hair. One of her hands is bleeding. So, not too different than usual, if Alice is being honest.

“What did you do this time?” Alice says, dolls flitting around her as she pulls Marisa into her cottage. A Shanghai doll wipes Marisa’s face with a flick of Alice’s pinkie; another lifts her hat off to place it on a table; another four unbutton her ruined dress and lift it over her head. Yet another is making tea, and another is readying Alice’s workbench. All of the motions of the dolls, of course, are second nature to Alice.

“Got ambushed by a couple of shithead tengu near Youkai Mountain! I won,” she says proudly. “But I uh. Kinda got thrown into a tree. In the process.”

“And how did the dirt get onto your face?”

“Fell outta the tree.”

“…right.” Alice guides Marisa, now in just her undershirt and bloomers, into an armchair. “You’re lucky you didn’t break any bones.”

“Guess I am lucky, huh?”

Alice huffs, but lets herself smile nonetheless. Marisa’s visits, at least, are anything but dull. She expertly manipulates two of her dolls to pick up what’s left of Marisa’s dress and lay it out on a table. At the same time, she sends two more to clean and bandage Marisa’s wound. “Be more careful next time. I’ll see what I can do about your dress.”

The bodice, unfortunately, looks horrendous. Alice doubts she can simply sew it back together. It would leave a nasty unnaturally-placed seam no matter what she did, and it would completely ruin the dress’s structure. She can’t even be sure if it would still fit Marisa after the alterations. So the obvious solution is to, oh no, make a completely new dress.

“Up,” Alice says, as a Hourai doll comes flying out of a side room bearing a bolt of fabric. “I need to measure you.”

“Huh?” Marisa says, confused. Alice sends a Shanghai doll to hold Marisa’s hair up, two to hold measuring tape at her shoulders. “Hey, how’re you doing that?”

“Doing… what, exactly?”

“You’re lookin’ through books over there while you’ve got all these dolls poking at me. You sure they’re not autonomous?”

“I’m very sure. I’m controlling them.” Alice finds the dress pattern she’s looking for and carefully marks the page with a piece of scrap fabric.

“You aren’t even looking!” Marisa howls. Another flick of the wrist, another doll circles her waist with measuring tape.

“I don’t need to. I know them inside and out. If you would just stay still…” Alice turns to face Marisa, her hands raised to show the rings on each of her fingers. “Controlling the dolls is absolutely vital to my ability to fight. I don’t need to think about it.”

“So you’re sayin’ you can do whatever, and you can have the dolls doing their own thing at the same time.”

“Yes, exactly.” To demonstrate, Alice waves her hand, and two dolls emerge from the kitchen, each carrying a teacup. “I had them prepare yours the way you like it while I was examining your dress. It should be cool enough to drink now.”

“Huh. Thanks.”

“Think about it this way. Do you have to think about setting off a Master Spark, or do you just–no, please don’t show me right now, I’ve seen it enough.”

“Dammit, Alice, at least let me have some fun while I’m waiting.”

“Well, find some fun that doesn’t involve destroying my house,” Alice says, and starts to cut the fabric.

By the end of the evening Marisa’s complained of being hungry five times, almost left Alice’s cottage in her underwear once, grumbled about borrowing one of Alice’s dresses three times, eaten four servings of grilled lamprey, and finally, passed out in Alice’s living room. A small army of Shanghais tug a thick blanket from out of a cupboard to drape it over Marisa. And then, they are dismissed for the night.

Alice lets out a long sigh, her work finally done just as her house had gotten quiet. If her measurements were correct, this new dress should fit Marisa perfectly. Alice just hopes she doesn’t wreck it as easily.

And, well, even if she does, Alice will be ready.


	3. Remilia/Patchouli - under the rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for remipatche on tumblr

Heavy rain pours down in sheets outside the mansion. It creates a constant tapping at the roof and windows, and serves only to increase Patchouli’s concentration on her studying. She’s writing another grimoire, laying down basic foundations for summoning demons and binding them as familiars, so anyone else with the right talent and prowess could have their own Koakuma. (She’s been extra careful to keep this one away from Kirisame’s eyes.)

Her drawing of a diagram is interrupted by the only person formally allowed to bother her in her study. “Good evening,” Remilia says, leaning across the back of the chair to drape her arms over Patchouli’s shoulders.

“Good evening, Remi. I’m a bit busy.” She moves a hand up to touch Remilia’s, to soften the statement a bit.

“It’s raining.”

“I know. Were you planning on doing something?”

“I wanted to have our tea outside today,” Remilia pouts, her dignified facade slipping for just a second. She leans back and crosses her arms, huffing. “Patchy. Could you make the rain stop?”

“I’m sorry,” Patchouli says. “I don’t think it would be very wise to interfere with nature. In this case.”

“But…” Remilia frowns.

“Even the Scarlet Devil has to accept that.”

“ _Paaaatchyyy_!”

Patchouli looks up over her shoulder slowly. Remilia’s so impatient. And, unfortunately, very easy to give into, when she’s making that face.

“…I could lessen the rain in a small spot over the porch, for a few minutes.”

Remilia grins. And it is worth it.

Remilia has to drink her tea under the cover of a wide umbrella, just in case, held dutifully by Sakuya. And the wind sends a few droplets of rain flying into Patchouli’s hair and cloak. And she’s only able to maintain the cover for a short time. And Remilia says, “It’s cold out here. I’d like to go back inside,” and Sakuya carries her in, and Patchouli follows.

They end up having tea in one of the mansion’s many sitting rooms, a roaring fire already crackling in the fireplace. The room is warm and dry, and the tea is smooth and sweet. And by dawn, the rain has stopped, the clouds breaking to reveal a pale purple sky. Remilia watches it calmly from one of the windows inside the library.

“Did you want to go outside before you go to sleep?” Patchouli asks, without looking up from her work.

“No. I’ve had enough adventure for one day. And I suppose you have too.” Remilia stretches her wings. “We can always go outside again.”

Patchouli smiles wryly, adding the finishing touches to her depiction of a sealing spell. “…Next time, I’d rather not tamper with the weather.”


	4. Suika/Kasen, memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for dlartistanon on tumblr

Sometimes, late at night, Kasen thinks about them.

It’s been hundreds of years, and she’s lost contact with everyone. Disappearing into thin air and becoming a hermit will do that, she supposes. But it’s not like she doesn’t know where her old friends are. Yuugi, and some of the others, are still down in Former Hell. And Suika…

Suika’s a bit of a complicated story.

——

The last time the four of them went mountain climbing, Suika had held Kasen’s hand the whole way. As the day went on the two of them gradually fell behind, lost in their own world. If Yuugi wasn’t so tall, her bright hair clearly visible, they’d have probably gotten lost. Suika had giggled drunkenly and twirled Kasen around, and leaned up as far as she could to place a tiny kiss on Kasen’s nose. And when they reached the summit, it felt like nothing in the world existed except them and the beautiful view.

It seems dreamlike and hazy now, trying to recall it. Kasen left the other Devas behind soon after. She barely remembers why. But the little things, the small moments, come back to her with ease.

Kasen used to sleep with her head on Suika’s chest, while Suika lay sprawled out on her back. It was comforting, at the time. Hearing Suika’s heartbeat, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing, it could lull Kasen to sleep like nothing else. On her sleepless nights, over the years, her mind has often strayed to her memories of being with Suika. She wonders, sometimes, if she’d sleep easier if she had the comfort of Suika’s beating heart under her fingertips once more.

Another thing: she always woke up first. Kasen never knew how, but Suika always woke up before her, lying there for as long as it took for Kasen to wake up as well. She’d stroke Kasen’s hair, and the part of her shoulder just before where her old prosthetic arm started. (Kasen wonders, now, how Suika would touch her bandaged youkai arm. If she would at all.)

“Mornin’, Kasen,” she would say, and hold Kasen close. And being held like that, Kasen hates to admit, she thought she would never let go.

Other memories swim to the surface every so often, of course. Drinking with Yuugi and Suika, and laughing, and supporting each other when none of them could walk straight. Losing her arm at Mount Ooe, and then Suika waiting patiently by her side day after day as she learned to use the prosthetic. The first time she ever held Suika’s hand, her little fingers squeezing Kasen’s own. The way Suika could pick her up effortlessly, even though Kasen stood two full heads taller. The way she would care for Suika when Suika was sick, and how Suika did the same for her.

Suika. She misses Suika.

Not on the surface, of course. She has a reputation to maintain, and training to do. All her free time is spent in meditation or with her animals. And she’s not even entirely sure if Suika is still the Suika she remembers. They haven’t spoken in nearly three hundred years.

But maybe, the irrational side of her says, it would be okay. Just once. To hear Suika say her name lovingly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world, just one more time.


	5. Kaguya/Mokou - tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for sexyakibadetectives on tumblr
> 
> it was pointed out to me by a good friend that this is absolutely not how tarot works at all. i fully take responsibility for being a fuck who does not know about tarot. then again, in this fic, neither does kaguya, so just suspend disbelief for me here. WE'RE LEARNING.

The violence has gone on for too, too long. Kaguya’s won for tonight, but Mokou can tell she isn’t happy about it. Tears are pooling in the corners of her eyes, and her face is all anguish even as she’s pinned Mokou to the forest floor. “I can’t do this anymore,” she cries.

Mokou could very well push her off. But she doesn’t. And Kaguya’s hands close around her neck, and the last thing Mokou hears is Kaguya beginning to wail.

When Mokou wakes, her neck still hurts, and everything smells like ashes, and Kaguya is sniffling by her side. “Mokou,” she says. Her eyes are red. “Come home with me.”

Mokou, aching and tentative, does.

One night without fighting turns into two, which turns into a week, which turns into several. Mokou visits Eientei at night, slipping in the side door to Kaguya’s room. Kaguya greets her with a smile, and they talk. And talk, and talk. For all the years they’ve known each other, they’ve never really  _known_  each other.

This night is no different. When Mokou comes to Kaguya’s room, it’s empty, and there’s a soft chattering in the hall. Mokou digs out a cigarette from her pants and lights it while she listens in. “I’m okay, Inaba,” Kaguya is saying, “I’m really okay.”

“Princess…”

The door slides open, illuminating Kaguya’s figure with light from the hall. “Oh, we have a guest,” she says.

Reisen bites her lip. “Hello,” she says. She turns to Kaguya, worry in her eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, I let her in,” Kaguya says nonchalantly. She crosses the room and flops onto the floor next to Mokou.

“No, no, not that.” Reisen shakes her head. “Could you please not smoke in here? Eientei is a de facto hospital, and, well…”

Mokou stares her down for a second, then takes one last (very long) drag off her cigarette and stubs it out on Kaguya’s skirt.

“My dress!” Kaguya hollers, batting at the now-smoldering patch above her calf. “Mokou!”

“Ha,” Mokou says. “Got you that time.”

Without another word, Reisen shuts the door and leaves them alone.

After Kaguya’s extinguished the small fire and given Mokou a good scolding, she seems to relax, and asks if Mokou would like to see her newest project. Mokou rolls her eyes. Apparently Kaguya’s taken up several hobbies over the years, but none of them have really stuck. “Sure. As long as it isn’t embroidery or something.”

“Oh, I gave that up ages ago!” Kaguya says, smiling as she retrieves a leather pouch from under her pillow. “It’s these.” She opens it and fans out its contents across her lap.

“…are you serious?” Mokou asks. “A deck of cards?”

“Tarot cards.”

“Western fortune telling? Why?“ 

Kaguya draws her hand to her mouth. "I have to pass the time somehow.”

“So you learned fortune telling?”

“Yes! Eirin’s patients are quite fond of it.”

“I guess somebody has to be.”

“Oh, come on. Would you at least let me do yours? I’ll give you the complete spread.”

Mokou snorts, leaning back. “Fine. Not like I’m doing anything better tonight.”

Kaguya slides the cards neatly back into a uniform deck, then shuffles them. “Would you like a general prediction, or one about relationships, or was there anything specific which you–”

“Kaguya, just gimme the basics.” Mokou lights another cigarette. “I doubt you’ll be right anyway.”

“You’d be surprised.” Kaguya finishes shuffling, and draws five cards from the deck, laying them face down in front of Mokou in a cross. “Very well. The center represents the underlying theme, so…” She flips over the card in the middle of the cross.

Mokou can’t read the English letters on the card, but the painting clearly tells her all she needs to know. A gray sky and a building on fire, simultaneously being struck by lightning. “Fuck. That’s, uh,” Mokou says.

“Oh, don’t worry! It’s not necessarily bad. This is The Tower, number sixteen.” Kaguya trails a delicate finger along its name, showing Mokou. “It symbolizes change. Quite possibly, you’ll do something reckless, but it’ll work out in your favor. Um, it’s inverted, though.”

“That’s so vague. That describes, like, my entire life. Bet it describes yours too.”

“I said it’s inverted, Mokou.”

“Does that mean something different?”

“Yes. Hold on.” Kaguya pulls a book off of one of her shelves, flipping through the pages while Mokou sits there fidgeting. “Hmmm. Okay. There’s a change coming for you, but you’re trying to avoid it. And it’ll work out terribly if you don’t just let it come.”

“Sick,” Mokou says.

“Are you taking this seriously?” Kaguya demands.

“Maybe. I dunno. I just think there’s no use in it for us, knowing our future. We have to take it, no matter what it is. It’s not like we’re gonna die or anything, so… Ow!” Mokou’s interrupted by a shock of pain as Kaguya flicks her forehead with her finger and thumb. “What was that for?”

Kaguya smiles. “I got you that time.”

“You little shit.”

“Shall I continue the reading? It might help you. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Mokou looks down at The Tower, at the lightning and flames and darkness. She really doesn’t want any more of whatever this is. But she can humor Kaguya, just for now. “Okay. Fine. Lay it on me.” Besides, It doesn’t matter in the long run: Kaguya’s smile, so familiar and yet so new, is worth the price of any fortune.


	6. Renko/Maribel, hold my hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for imaginary-personality-holder on tumblr

“The truth is, um, I like you,” she says, her beautiful eyes cast down. “I’ve liked you so long, Renko.”

Renko stands there frozen.

“Renko?”

No. She can’t speak but she can’t worry Maribel and she’s so nervous and Maribel makes her heart feel like she’s at the very top of a rollercoaster and Maribel is standing there fidgeting with her hands and oh,  _Maribel_.

“It’s… Never mind, I’m sorry,” she says, her voice cracking.

“No,” Renko manages. “Merry. I’m. I mean, I, um. Like. You too.”  _You sound like a grade schooler_ , she chastises herself. “I really, really like you.”

“You mean… Not… just as friends, right?”

“No, no, I mean in a… romantic way.” This is the first time she’s ever said she likes girls out loud, and she’s tripping all over her words.

Maribel’s blushing right to the tips of her ears. “Me too, Renko.”

 

[21:23] Merry: renko, would you like to visit a graveyard in aoyama this weekend? i was thinking friday evening.  
[21:24] Merry: it’s probably not haunted. but a change of pace might be nice anyway. let me know, ok?

Renko stares at the text messages, savoring them, letting each word remind her that Maribel is now her girlfriend (her girlfriend!).  _Yes_ , she types.  _Meet you at the station at 5._

Within moments, she gets a reply.

[21:28] Merry: <3

A thrill of joy shoots through Renko as she types a heart back.

 

“There’s something calming about cemeteries,” Maribel says, when they’re on the train. “In my country they’re really different, so I like coming to see Japanese ones.”

“You pay your respects to your ancestors a very different way,” Renko points out.

“Well, yes. Someday you’ll have to visit my family at the end of October, and we’ll show you a real Día de los Muertos. It’s incredible. I think you’d really like it.”

The second Maribel lapses into Spanish, Renko can feel her heart melting. “I’d love it,” she says, absolutely overcome with delight at Maribel’s very existence.

By the time they arrive at their stop, the sky outside has turned to soft pinks and purples and blues, and the first stars are peeking out. Renko’s struck with an urge to reach out for Maribel’s hand, with the way they’re walking side by side. But they are still in the train station, and Renko doesn’t want to embarrass herself, but, oh, she’s not embarrassed by Maribel, or of having Maribel as her girlfriend, but what if–

Anxiety tying her into knots, she squeezes her own hands together tightly and reminds herself to breathe. It’s too difficult, and she’s too nervous. How badly she wishes Maribel would ask to hold her hand.

 

The graveyard is huge, and especially beautiful at this time of the evening, despite the chill in the air. The rows of markers cast long shadows, giving it a maze-like appearance. “This is kind of amazing,” Maribel says, just as awestruck as Renko.

“Yeah…” Renko looks up at the sky for the small comfort of finding the exact time. “We probably have about an hour to explore before it gets too dark.”

“Well, lead the way!” Maribel says, her face alight with anticipation.

Renko’s heart does a backflip. No one else is around. Before she can think too hard about it, she extends a shaky hand. “Okay.”

“Hmmm?” Those wide violet eyes are going to kill her.

“Would… do you want to hold hands?” Renko says quickly, then draws another shaky breath.

“Oh, Renko!” Maribel laces her soft fingers through Renko’s. “I…” She giggles. “It’s kind of funny, I was thinking about holding your hand the whole way here, but I didn’t know if you’d be okay with it.”

“What–really? I was too. Oh. Oh, I wish you’d said something.”

“I wish  _you’d_  said something!” She rubs her thumb against Renko’s hand. “Well, now we know.”

“Yeah.” Renko gestures, and begins to lead Maribel down through the first row of graves. “Yeah, we do.”

Maribel doesn’t let go all night. And neither of them can stop smiling.


	7. Akyuu/Aya, pen and paper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for matiasalbertini on tumblr

A lazy Saturday in Gensokyo is fairly welcome, for most of its inhabitants. For Aya, it’s certain sudden death, a loss of vitality. Aya goes and goes and goes, and when she stops, it feels like hell. There’s always something to be done, for her, so that when there isn’t she ends up completely lost.

Normally, when Aya runs out of ideas, she just goes down to the Hakurei Shrine and provokes Reimu into saying something article-worthy. But that’s gotten so boring. She needs to be on the move, looking for new information, fresh sources. Someone that hasn’t already sent her death threats for writing about them. 

For today, the ever pure and honest Shameimaru is going to ignore that she is informally barred from the human village. It’s not like she’s going to cause any trouble! She won’t even try to disguise herself like some of the other youkai do. And besides, it’s all for her newspaper. Surely the freedom of the press covers an investigation into the human side of Gensokyo.

Unfortunately for her, the human village is exactly as fond of her as she’d remembered, with people blatantly going out of their way to avoid her and shopkeepers hastily turning away when she walks by. Maybe she should have tucked her wings inside her shirt after all. (Like that would make a difference.) That leaves her with only one option: the inhabitants of the human village who are already knowledgeable and open to youkai. There’s one in particular who, of course, has the same predisposition towards collecting information that she does.

And so, somehow, Aya Shameimaru finds herself sitting on a cushion in the bedroom of the Child of Miare, a cup of steaming tea in front of her and her pen at the ready.

“Long time, no see,” Akyuu says. “What brings you here?”

“A journalist is always looking for new ventures,” Aya says proudly.

“Is the shrine maiden too busy to see you today?”

“No, no! I just thought an article about you would be a good change of pace."  _Skeptical_ , Aya notes, her handwriting a sloppy mess.

"You’re getting information out of this? I’ve barely said anything.”

“Mmm, mmm,” Aya nods, scribbling down on her notepad without taking her eyes off Akyuu’s. 

“It’s incredible how much you can fabricate.”

“Always here to serve.”

Akyuu folds her hands. “May I ask what you’re planning on writing about me? All of Gensokyo already knows of my existence and purpose. I haven’t done anything of note recently. Why me?”

The truth is that the Hieda house was just the first one Aya saw that probably wouldn’t throw her out, but that wouldn’t make for a good story to anyone. “Your position in Gensokyo is pretty special! If I interviewed you, people would get a better sense of what the daily life of the Child of Miare is like.”

Akyuu closes her eyes. “It’s not very interesting.” She pauses. “Though if anyone could make it sound that way, it’s you.”

For the first time, Aya gives a genuine smile, grinning from ear to ear. “Now that’s what I like to hear. So, may I have an interview?”

Akyuu tilts her head and gives a small smile. “Where do we begin?”


	8. Alice/Marisa, cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for trichronikas on twitter

“Yo! Alice, you home?” Marisa calls, kicking Alice’s front door open. No response. However, there is an extremely inviting smell in the house. Marisa sniffs, wandering in and closing the door behind her. This is a scent she knows all too well. Alice has been baking sweets.

Mouth watering, Marisa hurries towards the kitchen, all to excited to see what it is that Alice made. She’s not disappointed in the slightest: on the kitchen table rests a beautiful, round, donut-shaped cake drizzled with a creamy caramel and rum sauce and–are those chocolate shavings? “Alice!” Marisa yells again. “’S it cool to eat this? I’m kinda hungry!” No response. “Hey! You even here?” Silence. “Somebody’s gonna steal your shit if you keep leavin’ your door unlocked.” The only answer she gets is the fixed stare of a hundred decorative dolls.

It’s probably fine to eat the cake. Like, just a little piece.

As Marisa cuts herself a slice, the front door of Alice’s cottage swings open. “Oh, hey!” Marisa calls out, her mouth full of fluffy chocolate cake. “Alice, it’s me!”

Alice enters the kitchen startlingly fast, a small bag clutched in her hands. “Marisa!” she gasps. “My panettone–what are you  _doing_ –that’s– _no_!”

“It’s good,” Marisa says sheepishly.

“That was for Patchouli!”

“Aw, you’re seein’ Patchy behind my back? Didn’t think you were that kinda person, but we can make it work.”

“No, you complete idiot,” Alice seethes. “It was for a party, not for you. I can’t believe this! Why the  _hell_  do you think it’s okay to just–come in here like you–ugh!”

“Whoa, wait, Patchy’s having a thing? Damn, how come I’m the last to hear about it?”

“Because if there is a blacklist I’m certain you are the first and only name on it. Besides, it’s supposed to be a small, quiet get-together, not a drunken party.”

“Oh, well, that’s no fun. If you wanna sit around reading what’s the point of goin’ out?”

“That’s why you were not  _invited_ , Marisa.”

“Huh, well, that’s okay, I guess.”

“It’s  _not_ okay!” Alice’s face is red with frustration, and she looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “I spent  _hours_  on that and you just  _ruined_  all my work.”

Marisa frowns. “Hey, I didn’t know. Usually when you leave something on the table it means it’s cool to eat, right?”

“Wrong. It absolutely does not mean that, ever.”

“…You’re sayin’ I screwed up,” Marisa says slowly, unable to avoid it any longer.

“In a major way, yes.”

“Aw, sorry, Alice, I’ll make it up to you someday.”

Alice takes a deep breath, sobering herself. “You’re going to do it today. You will help bake a replacement.”

Marisa holds up her hands. “Uh-uh. I don’t think you want me anywhere near something that fancy. It’ll look like cat poop if I do it.”

“Yes, I’m very much aware.” Alice bites her lip in concentration. “It’s not as labor-intensive, and it’s a bit basic, but well-decorated sugar cookies should be fine.”

“Uh, hate to break it to you, but I’m really really bad at baking. I’m good at like. Eating stuff.”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before,” Alice says. “Now. Get me the flour and sugar from that cabinet. We have work to do.”

————

Marisa really has to hand it to Alice. The girl operates with machinelike efficiency when it comes to cooking. She’s got a doll blending the dry ingredients to perfection, another creaming butter and sugar together, and another sifting powdered sugar. Alice herself sits at the table, studying a handwritten recipe in a language Marisa can’t read and occasionally giving instructions. “Measure out a teaspoon of baking soda and put it in the bowl over there. No, I said baking  _soda_. Yes. That one. Marisa, be careful, that’s not a teaspoon.”

“They all look the same!”

Alice gives a deep, heavy sigh. “Marisa.”

“Yeah.”

“Think about it this way. When you’re working with your mushrooms, how do you do it?”

Marisa grins. “Mix shit together until it does somethin’ cool.”

“Okay, that’s what we’re doing. Except some of the ingredients are highly toxic mushrooms and we can only use a very small amount.”

“I’m not five, Alice. I know what we’re doin’ here.”

“Then measure out the amount I tell you or these will taste like garbage.”

“Gotcha.”

After what feels like hours, Alice finally lets Marisa relax. “I’ll let the dolls handle shaping the cookies, then we just have to bake them. You’re done. I’ll do the frosting myself.”

“Wow, really? Thought that was never gonna end.”

Alice sighs. “I guess. You can lick the bowl.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes. Then if it’s poisonous I’ll be the first to know.”

“You suck, Alice,” Marisa says. But she scrapes out a piece of cookie dough and licks it off her finger nonetheless. “Hey, this’s pretty decent. You want some?”

“I think I’ll have the cooked version,” Alice says. “But… you did well. Considering you caused this entire mess in the first place.”

Marisa beams. “So can I keep your cake thing that I wrecked?”

“No. I’ll… figure out something to do with it.” She pauses. “But I think you can have another piece, if you want. And, um, you should taste test the finished cookies too. To make sure they’re of high quality.”

“Yeah, yeah. How ‘bout I test the frosting too?”

“…I think we can arrange that as well.”


	9. Utsuho/Rin, hold my hand/safety first

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for sexyakibadetectives on tumblr and trichronikas on twitter. the first of two 2 Prompts Squished Into One Fic fills!

“Okuu!”

The sound of Orin’s voice ringing sharply through the Hell of Blazing Fires makes Okuu turn. “Oh, hey! Orin! Orin, c'mere!” She slides the control rod off her arm and rushes towards where Orin’s standing. “I’m soooo happy to see you!” she cries, throwing her arms around Orin’s neck. She rubs her face against Orin’s cheek, the way she always does, but to her surprise Orin screams and pushes her away.

“Owwww! Ow, ow!” Orin howls, beating the front of her dress. There’s a vaguely circular hole burned clean into it, and the skin underneath is flushed hot and red. “Okuu!”

“Sorry! Sorry, Orin, I didn’t know! Are you okay?”

“It’s okay! Just, owww, don’t do that again…”

“Oh, no!” Did it hurt? It looks like it hurt. “Sorry for burning your boobs,” she says apologetically.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Orin says, her tails flicking back and forth. She lightly touches her exposed skin. “Yeah, you… you did burn me, how’d you do that?”

Okuu touches the fusion heart on her chest. “Here!” Strangely enough, it doesn’t hurt her fingers at all. It’s pleasantly warm, and pulsing with her heartbeat.

“What is that thing? You got it from that god, huh?”

“It’s my heart!” Okuu says proudly. “Well, uh, she called it a fusion heart. So it must be!”

Orin looks a little puzzled. “Um, alright. Anyway, is the shrine maiden gone? I fought her four times… What happened? I tried to catch up to you so I could watch, but I guess I couldn’t…”

“Oh, yeah, she beat me! Hahaha. It was kind of funny, actually!” Okuu smiles proudly. “She made me promise not to blow up the world.”

“That’s good,” Orin sighs. “Oh, Okuu, I was so worried…” Okuu doesn’t really understand it, but Orin looks like she might cry. “Let’s, let’s go back up to the mansion, okay?”

“Okay!” Okuu trills. She makes to grab Orin’s hand, like usual, but Orin jerks away from her touch. “Orin?”

“Hot,” Orin yelps. “Okuu, I’m really sorry, but, but, don’t touch me until we figure this out, okay?”

Okuu visibly deflates. “Okaaaay.” The exhilaration from her fight with the shrine maiden is fading fast, and she feels like someone’s punched her right in the stomach. She’s  _never_  not held hands with Orin. But right now, she’s hurting Orin just by touching her, and it’s so unimaginable and so strange. She never, never, never wants to hurt Orin.

Together, they trudge back up to the Palace of Earth Spirits, Orin fiddling with her burned-open dress and Okuu unsure of what to do with her own empty hands.

——

“She’s hot?” Satori says, puzzled.

Orin meows softly, butting her head against Satori’s hand.  _Really hot! I couldn’t even hold her hand_ , she thinks.

“And she burned your dress like that… I see.” Satori begins to think, but there’s only one real possibility. “I’ll have to see Okuu about it for the specifics, but from what you’re saying, it sounds like she’s now a living sun.”

_A sun?_

“A very, very big, hot star. So, yes, it makes sense that she burned you on contact.”

Orin’s thoughts become a jumbled, worried mess, and Satori gives up trying to follow one specific path. There was a god, it sounds like, and Okuu had some kind of rod strapped to her arm. Fear, and confusion. Flashes of memories of Orin’s own fights with the shrine maiden. And a strong desire to just be with Okuu again, the way they used to.

Satori scratches Orin softly behind her ears. “Please relax. It’ll all be alright. It’s okay now.”

_I’m worried. I’m scared._

“I know,” Satori murmurs. “I know.”

“Orin!” Okuu hollers, her voice bouncing off the walls of the foyer and startling more than a few cats. “Oh! Satori-sama! I want to hug Orin!”

“Yes, yes, I’m aware… Could I talk with you for a bit first?”

“Huh? Yeah! Hold on, I wanna hug Orin.”

“Okuu,” Satori sighs. All in the same moment, Okuu reaches out for the cat on Satori’s lap, Satori realizes exactly what’s happening, and Orin jumps onto the floor. Seconds later she’s back in her girl-youkai form, frowning up at Okuu.

“Orin, look!” Okuu places her hand against Orin’s. Orin jolts, but quickly relaxes. “Haha, see? I put my hands under cold water!”

“They’re too cold now!” Orin complains.

“Okuu, could we please talk about this?”

“ _Oriiiiiiiiiiinnn_ ,” Okuu cries, sinking down to her knees to meet Orin on the floor. She wraps her arms around Orin again, but leaves a space between them for the glowing red gem on her chest. “Is this okay? Orin?”  


“Yeah,” Orin says, reaching up to hold Okuu closer. “You’re still kinda warm, but it doesn’t hurt…”

“Maybe ‘cause we aren’t in Hell anymore!”

Satori sighs. Best to let her pets have this small reunion, and talk to them afterwards. She still isn’t entirely sure what happened to Okuu, aside from–swallowing a god? Well, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing she’s ever eaten. For now, though, Satori’s content to just watch as Orin curls up in her cat form, nuzzling against Okuu’s knee, and listen as Okuu laughs happily.


	10. Yukari/Yuyuko, food/happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for lorkhantheman and rabbiteclair on tumblr

It’s something Yuyuko’s known for as long as she can remember. The visits are often unexpected, and rarely planned, but Yukari will show up in her bedroom, sitting cross-legged on her futon or lounging in midair, her body suspended by a gap. “May I take you out tonight?” she’ll ask, extending one gloved hand to Yuyuko. And Yuyuko will smile, and accept.

Tonight is no different. When Yuyuko returns to her bedroom after checking on her cherry blossoms, Yukari is there, lazy and graceful and sprawled on the floor. “Ah! Good evening.”

Yuyuko smiles and crouches down. “Good evening to you,” she says, cupping Yukari’s face in one hand and leaning in for a kiss. Yukari’s warm, and when they part she’s smiling expectantly.

“I have something for you. Would you like to see?”

This is another part of the ritual. From nowhere, Yukari pulls a gorgeous white dress, soft and flowing and patterned with small blue flowers. Yuyuko graciously accepts it, already knowing it’ll fit perfectly. “And what are you wearing tonight?” she asks, slipping off her robe and stepping into the dress. Cool silk brushes softly against her legs. “Just your usual clothes?”

Yukari laughs. “Oh, no! No, it would be much too conspicuous where we’re going. I’ve prepared something for myself as well.”

“Mmm. Am I allowed to see?”

“When we get there.” Yukari moves to lace up the back of Yuyuko’s dress. “It looks nice on you.”

“You do know best.” Yuyuko slips on the pair of shoes she keeps solely for these occasions. “So, where is our destination, may I ask?”

Yukari hums, taking Yuyuko’s hand and opening a wide gap in front of them. “You’ll see.”

————

When they emerge, they’re on the banks of a river, and the air is warm. Yuyuko blinks, and Yukari’s nightgown has been replaced by a lacy lavender sundress. As usual, she’s perfect, she’s radiant, she’s beautiful. The setting sun gives her skin an otherworldly glow, especially with the sparkling surface of the water behind her. So fitting.

“Well? How do you like it?” Yukari twirls, the skirt fanning out around her. “I picked it up in the outside on my last shopping trip. It’s rare to find something of this quality around these days…”

“It’s wonderful,” Yuyuko says after a moment, still awestruck by the way Yukari looks dressed up even after all these years. “Ah, Yukari, where are we…”

Yukari reaches to hold Yuyuko’s hand, the lace of her gloves brushing against Yuyuko’s cool skin. “Let’s start walking, shall we?”

It takes several minutes before it’s clear. Yukari’s brought her to the outskirts of a quiet city, a town that’s sleepy yet alive, nestled on a river. Yuyuko can’t read the signs on the side of the road, nor on the shops, so they must be somewhere in the outside world. Somewhere quite distant from the border of Gensokyo.

“Here we are,” Yukari says, stopping in front of a small cafe. “This place has the best sweets I have ever tasted, I must say.”

“Better than Ran’s?” Yuyuko smiles.

“Well, don’t tell her that.” Yukari pushes the door open, the small bell attached to it jangling with her entrance.

Yuyuko looks around in wonder as Yukari converses with the cashier in a lilting foreign tongue. The walls are lined with photographs of flowers, of food, of bridges and skylines and natural landscapes. Her eyes wander to the glass display cases in front of them, filled with assorted sweets and pastries. Yuyuko can feel her mouth watering as she looks them over.

“Oh, Yuyuko,” Yukari says in Japanese. “Would you like to pick one out?”

“Hmmm? I thought you were picking for me.” She continues mulling over her choices. “What about this one?” she asks, pointing.

“Oh, don’t. Youmu could easily make that for you if we got the right ingredients.”

“Then I’ll choose the one with the strawberry.”

Yukari flashes a smile. “You have good taste, as always.” She turns back to the cashier, placing her order in that beautifully flowing language, and exchanges coins for a little paper bag of pastries. The cashier watches them with a slightly stunned look as Yukari calls out her thanks and, once again, takes Yuyuko’s hand. “Come along, now.”

“We aren’t eating here?”

“Oh, no. Wouldn’t you like to sit by the river? Besides,” she says, lowering her voice and leaning close to Yuyuko’s ear, “do you really want that shopkeeper watching us?”

Yuyuko giggles, giving Yukari’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Oh, no.”

————

Yukari’s right. Sitting on the shore of the river is much more pleasant, especially when Yukari can pull a blanket and perfectly chilled drinks out of nowhere. “Here you are,” she says with a warm smile, pressing a broken-off piece of a cookie to Yuyuko’s lips.

The pastries are sweet and light, but made even more so since Yukari’s by her side like this. Yuyuko’s always thought that good food is best enjoyed in the company of those she loves. This is certainly no different. It’s something Yuyuko’s known for as long as she can remember. That Yukari brings her out to the most beautiful places in the world because she wants to see Yuyuko happy. And Yuyuko is.


End file.
